


The Island of the Archangel

by Flantastic



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fist Fights, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Intrigue, M/M, Major Character Injury, Making Love, Mission Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 12:07:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22495846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flantastic/pseuds/Flantastic
Summary: An undercover mission.An isolated island in the depths of winter.James is on the trail of a notorious criminal and instead finds a young man.  But does the mysterious Q need to be captured… or saved?
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 57
Kudos: 233





	1. A Change of Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabricdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabricdragon/gifts).



> This was supposed to be my offering to the wonderful Fabricdragon for this year's Reverse Big Bang. Then real life got seriously in the way and I got seriously behind with my writing.
> 
> I made it at last though and hopefully it will be worth the wait. Thank you again to Fabricdragon for her lovely art which was just so inspirational.
> 
> I'll tag with every chapter.

  
  


As missions went, James reflected as he sipped on his first cup of coffee of the day, he’d certainly had worse.

He had to admit, he didn’t really know _why_ he was currently sitting and enjoying the view in the small cottage that had been rented for him on the south coast of Ireland, but he was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He reached over the small table next to him and took a cigarette out of the packet that rested on it. He didn’t smoke much these days. He used to be a forty a day man in his twenties but even though he’d largely kicked the habit, he still liked to indulge in one before breakfast. He took a drag and looked out over the heath in the direction of the small quay he knew was at the bottom of the lane. 

He had been in Costa Rica, shadowing a Mossad agent that MI6 thought had begun to follow his own agenda. The man was suspected of taking bribes to carry out hits. It had been James’s mission to find out if there was any truth to the rumours. Out of the blue he’d received an encoded transmission from London. A set of coordinates and a new cover identity. He was Richard Sterling. Author and moderately well-known expert on the Alcid family of seabirds. He’d googled them on the military flight to Bantry Aerodrome. Murres, guillemots, auklets, puffins, and murrelets… he’d only actually heard of a couple of them. He’d wondered if his ‘bird-watching’ cover might have been a little joke from Moneypenny (who had been vocal in the past as to how she found his womanising while on mission antiquated and unnecessary) but then he’d realised exactly where he was heading. 

If he stood in the first-floor bedroom of the little cottage he was renting, and looked out of the window he could just make out Skellig Michael. The rocky outcrops were famous for its huge bird colonies and sat offshore around seven miles west of the little cottage. He had to admit, his sudden arrival in the middle of January to this small community was easily explained to the locals when it was taken into consideration. It still didn’t explain it to him though. He’d been there for two days, awaiting further instructions. In the meantime he’d spent the days hiking, traversing the coastline, making friends with the locals as far as he was able and making sure to spend money in the nearby villages’ stores. It was a dance he was familiar with, making himself just known enough to not seem like a mystery, someone who might be worth gossiping about. If he was successful, the people who lived around St Finian’s Cove would just dismiss him as another English boffin pottering around.

He was jolted out of his wool-gathering by a tap on the front door. He stubbed out his cigarette and put on the pair of cheap reading glasses he’d picked up at a chemist in Glengarriff before going to answer it. He’d spotted them after he’d gone in to pick up some painkillers and thought they made him look suitably bookish so as to help him pass as an academic. As he stood up, he checked his Walther which was tucked into the back of his waistband. He opened the door to see a young man in a UPS uniform who was holding a box roughly the size of a briefcase in his hand.

“Professor Sterling?” He asked.

“I am he.” James smiled.

The man thrust the package at him and then tapped the handheld device which was in his other hand. James glanced at the sender’s address on the parcel; _Universal Exports._

“Sign please.”

James duly squiggled on the pad and thanked the man before shutting the door on him. He went back to the kitchen table, taking off the glasses and throwing them to one side before he opened the box. There was a sleek laptop in it which he opened and turned on. As he waited for it to load up, he heard his phone’s alert. There was a message which comprised of one word, ‘Oracle’.

In basic terms, Oracle was Mi6’s version of Skype but with encryption levels the likes of which the creators of Skype could only dream of. The tablet in the courier’s hand must have sent the message that the parcel had been delivered. He clicked on the icon on his desktop and typed in his credentials. A moment later he was greeted by Moneypenny’s smiling face.

“007.”

“Moneypenny. If I’d known you were going to call, I’d have slipped into something slinkier…” He purred.

He saw her grin for a split-second before there was a sudden movement and the screen zoomed out to show Moneypenny was sitting next to M. Tanner sat on the other side of him.

“For crying out loud, do behave Bond.” M grumbled. James smirked as the man opened a paper file in front of him. “You’re probably wondering why you were relocated with so little warning…”

“It had crossed my mind, Sir.” James said dryly. As he spoke the heading of the paper in front of M caught his eye. It appeared to be a standard intelligence report that looked uncannily like the type that the CIA used. Tanner had a keyboard in front of him and he typed in a few commands. The view of the three of them suddenly moved to the top right corner of James’s screen and a copy of the report sprang up in a new window. 

“Drug runners?” he asked as he read the mission directive.

He raised an eyebrow as his eyes flicked up to M. The man stared back at him resolutely, so James looked back to scan the report quickly. Key words jumped out at him.

_Drugs_

_Coastguard_

_Police_

_Ireland_

When he reached the bottom of the page he leaned back.

“Alright, I’ll bite. Why did you send me to the arse-end of southern Ireland to assist the local Gardaí in arresting a couple of drug smugglers?”

M closed his file, setting it down onto the pile of folders in front of Moneypenny who dutifully neatened it up.

“Yet again Bond, you demonstrate your unfailing inability to properly read the documents that I give to you. A single sheet of text too taxing for you, was it?” He groused. James just shrugged. Whether he read the document properly or not, he knew M was there to fully brief him. He really didn’t see the point in wasting his time with pre-learning the details... M sighed heavily.

“What do you know about Archangel?”

“Well, they’re a myth, aren’t they?” James asked, “A fairy-tale criminals tell their children at bedtime…”

The word ‘Archangel’ had been bandied about for a few years now. Countless investigations had resulted in agents coming across the term but it was always nebulous, rumoured. A terrorist would be intercepted before bombing a place of worship and when they were interrogated, they would say the plans for their bombs came from Archangel. A warlord intent on overthrowing a local authority would say they’d been funded by Archangel. A thief caught breaking into an art gallery would say the schematics of the alarm system were provided by Archangel. There was never any concrete proof of whether this ‘Archangel’ actually existed but the coincidence of the word coming up so regularly, when investigating crimes being committed across the globe, was overwhelming.

“Very possibly,” M replied, “but we’ve had word from someone at the CIA that they might be mixed up in an operation being carried out near you right now.”

“Oh?” James asked, his interest piquing.

“Tanner is going to send you the details of a rendezvous that we want you to make this evening. Your contact will meet you there.”

“My contact?” James asked. M just smiled as another window popped up with the details of a local pub on it.

“Eight o’clock sharp. Don’t be late 007.” M replied before he closed the connection.

~00Q~

The Slaughtered Lamb was a small traditional pub on the road to Ballinskelligs, Skellig Ring. It was only a couple of miles from the cottage so James decided to walk. It was bitterly cold and a few flurries of snow were falling but the air was clear and bracing. James spent so much time in cities he relished the opportunity to get away from it all, even if he was technically still on duty. He supposed it was one of the few things that he missed from his days living at Skyfall; the opportunity to enjoy the wild outdoors and be alone with one’s thoughts. As he walked, he mulled over what M had said. The opportunity to track down and maybe even capture the elusive Archangel was an alluring prospect but he wondered just how feasible it was. He suspected that even if he did find the person using the name it would just be some local crook trying to attract kudos from his cohorts.

He reached the little hostelry a few minutes early. He’d been in there a couple of times already, the previous evening for a couple of pints and that lunchtime to have a light ploughman’s lunch. On his first visit, the small band playing in the corner had stopped playing completely and the entire population of the pub had stared as he’d walked to the bar to order himself a drink. To their credit though, they’d obviously decided that he wasn’t that much of a threat now as the music continued, albeit with some side glances. The landlord was a gruff man, small and wiry with a surprisingly large pot belly. He scowled at James.

“It’ll be the usual, will it?” He asked.

James smiled and perched himself on a bar stool.

“It will and will you take one for yourself?” He replied. He tried not to smirk when he saw the usual drift of confusion cross the man’s face as he tried to fathom James out. Despite James’s Scottish roots he was well aware of his cultivated English accent and yet every time he’d spoken to the landlord, he’d thrown in the slightest of Irish inflections into his speech pattern. It was designed to make the man feel more comfortable with James but on a certain level it seemed to confuse him.

“Thanks. I will. Been watchin’ them birds again have ya?”

“As far as I’m able,” James replied smoothly, “it’s a little early for any great numbers of them to be migrating back just yet. Their nesting sites are fascinating though…”

The man grunted, obviously not agreeing, as he started to pour James a pint of Guinness.

“It’s too cold. You’ll be wanting to get to the islands. There’ll be plenty of them bloody shite hawks nestin’ out there soon enough.” 

“Indeed.” James said. 

He heard the door to the bar open and the band faltered completely. The barman handed him his pint, watching the newcomer intently over James’s shoulder as they entered.

“I can’t believe you drink that stuff, brother. It’ll turn your shit black for a week. Gimme a shot of Bushmills, barkeep.”

James took a sip of his drink and turned to face Felix Leiter.

“So, you’re my contact?”

“Long time, no see. How’s London?”

“Grey and damp. Langley?”

“Stubborn.”

James raised an eyebrow as Felix placed ten euros on the bar and knocked back his drink. He pushed the glass back towards the landlord.

“Put another in there and make it a double, would you?” The man took the money and returned a moment later with Felix’s drink and his change. “Come on brother, let’s find us a table.”

There was only one free, right by the door to the gents toilet and furthest away from the open fire. The men settled into it, sitting across the tiny table from each other.

“So. To what do I owe this pleasure?” James asked. “Why am I dossing about in the arse end of nowhere pretending to be a bird-spotter?”

Felix took a sip of his whiskey to hide a smirk.

“Cover story my man. I want you to do something for me.”

“Oh? Why can’t you do it yourself?”

“Office politics.” Felix replied flatly. James watched him implacably until he sighed. “OK, here’s the deal…”

He started to talk in a low voice. The CIA were on the trail of a huge network of drug-dealers which they had followed from its origins in Central America. Felix had been assigned the task of following the distribution channels to see if they could work out who was financing the operation. There didn’t seem to be a money trail at source so it was Felix’s hunch that the whole thing was being funded from somewhere in Europe. He was in Ireland trying to find out where the drugs were physically coming into the country to find out in turn who was receiving them. He’d been working along the local coastline from Limerick with the Gardaí for the last month. Spending a few days with each division before moving on.

“Tomorrow I move on again but I came across something that I think needs to be followed up on. Something my higher-ups won’t sign off on me doing…” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and placed it on the table. “Four nights ago we were tracking a fishing boat. It was one the Gardaí had been keeping their eye on for a while. Has a habit of going out for a little night time fishing, meeting up with bigger ships, if you know what I mean.”

James told him that he did.

“We followed them out of Portmagee harbour and tracked them from a safe distance in a coastguard vessel. In the middle of the operation, just as we’re thinking of moving in on them, we intercept this transmission.”

Felix glanced around and, apparently satisfied no-one in the pub was paying them any attention, called up an audio file on his phone and set it to play. It was quiet but clear.

 _“Archangel calling… this is Archangel calling… bogey imminent… drop everything.”_ The recording was barely six seconds long.

“Was that it?” James asked when it ended.

“You sound like my boss.” Felix commented. “We reached the boat and searched them thoroughly. There was nothing except for a couple of fish and a whole bunch of empty holds. The next day some local kid thinks all his Christmases have come at once when he finds a quarter of a million dollars-worth of coke washed up on the beach. No fingerprints, nothing to tie it to our friendly neighbourhood smugglers.”

“So, they got tipped off. What’s the big deal? The bigger boat that they met up with had state of the art scanning equipment and…”

“It couldn’t have been them.” Felix replied, cutting across James. He called up the map again and tapped it. A couple of red lines appeared, intersecting twenty miles off the coast. “Look. There’s the route the local boat took. They went out, met a container ship that had come from Jacksonville. They came alongside, matching the speed of the bigger boat – those things can’t just stop on a dime, once they’re moving, they’re _moving_ \- they were together for less than ten minutes and then they broke away, the ship carried on its journey to Liverpool. The smaller boat hung around for another hour before coming back in. I had our tech guy listen to the recording. It was clear, minimal distortion.”

“The transmission was local.” James mused. “Someone ashore?”

“That’s what our guy thought. One problem though. We picked it up when we were eight miles out. Too far for a signal of that strength to be that clear.”

“Another vessel?”

“Not according to the satellites covering the area that night. But do you know what is there?”

Felix zoomed in on the map and James smiled.

“Skellig Michael?”

“What if Archangel’s on there, James? Satellite images didn’t give much away but there is a small camp on the path up to the old monastic settlement on Great Skellig.”

James burst out laughing.

“You’re joking right? One of the world’s most wanted, most notorious, most _elusive_ criminals hiding out on a barren rock in the middle of the ocean? It’s probably some poor academic, freezing his arse off studying the monks! It’s ridiculous!” He took a swig of his Guinness and replayed what he’d just said in his head.

 _Most elusive_.

He huffed out another, quieter laugh as he thought it over. It _was_ ridiculous… wasn’t it? He looked back to Felix to see his eyes glittering with mirth.

“Crazy right?”

“Absolutely. Fancy another drink?”

Later as James walked back to his cottage, he thought over his meeting with Felix. The CIA had dismissed his theories out of hand so he’d done the only thing he could think of. He’d contacted Mi6 to see if they might be interested. Langley might not have cared but Vauxhall had been intrigued enough to reroute James to check it out. Felix was moving on but he had offered his services as far as he was able. James had promised to let him know when he was going to head out to the island and keep him updated with his progress.

That was the next problem. How was he going to get there? He’d spent some time talking to local fishermen over the past few days. Almost all of them were currently working on their boats or mending their nets. The sea around them was wild at the moment and there were more storms predicted. Likely the only fishermen willing to take James to the island would be involved in the smuggling ring and they were the last people James wanted to tip off. Another option might be to steal a boat. The nearest harbour was at Portmagee but maybe he would be better off going down the coast to Waterville and taking one from there. With luck he could take a small motor cruiser that was being stored there for the winter…

As he pondered his possible acts of larceny, his phone alerted him to the fact it had received a message. It was a notification, a message from Moneypenny that read; “Happy Birthday, you lucky boy”. It was followed by a UPS tracking number. His mouth twitched into a smile as he put away his phone and stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep them warm against the icy wind which had started to blow. He had a feeling M had been sending him presents again.

~00Q~

The same young UPS driver arrived with James’s delivery the next day. The weather had turned again and it was lashing with sleet as he struggled to offload the three large boxes. James elected to stay in the dry warmth of his cottage to watch him and he thought the man might give him some attitude until James tipped him handsomely with two crisp twenty-euro notes. James could probably have offloaded the delivery himself in half the time but he wanted to maintain the image of a bookish academic and he didn’t suppose letting the man know that James could easily out-bench-press him would help.

After he’d gone James hauled the boxes into his front room before quickly going through them. There was an extremely lightweight inflatable rib boat packed into one with a self-inflating mechanism. A small but powerful outboard motor in another. There was a set of thermal underwear, water-resistant clothes, a dry-bag, a harpoon and a set of fishing rods. James went over them carefully, hoping they might conceal a clever Q-Branch gadget or two, but they were just rods. Additional cover, James guessed, in case he was intercepted. He could pretend he was out wreck-fishing if someone didn’t believe he was just out looking at nesting sites in January. Once everything was unpacked, he stood back and admired his new haul. Everything together weighed slightly under fifty kilos, he guessed. Impressive, but it was no wonder that the driver had been pissed off.

James went to the laptop and called up the Met Office’s secure satellite feeds. The storm that currently deluged the house was passing over and would be gone within the hour. There was another storm coming in though, larger and colder than its predecessor and it would probably bring snow with it. James quickly calculated that it would cover the islands around dusk. Ideal. He would set off around three and use the storm as cover as he landed.

He had a few hours until then so he sent a quick update to Vauxhall and then laid down on his bed to catch some extra sleep. He would be awake for much of the following twenty-four hours, he guessed. After he awoke, he prepared himself a meal to eat before changing into the clothes he’d been sent. He then sent a quick text to Felix to let him know he was heading to the island before setting about taking the equipment down to the small quay….

~00Q~

The little craft soldiered on as James wrestled with the tiller. The weather report had been accurate and the storm had begun just as James rounded the base of Great Skellig, the larger of the two Skellig islands. He was heading for the small beach on its southern side. It was an unknown stretch of water to James and although he had anticipated the fifteen-foot waves, the swell of the water kept threatening to upend the little rib. He sat low in it, resisting the urge to raise his centre of gravity to see his route more clearly. He could see the imposing cliffs well enough, he needed to stay cool and keep them on his right as he approached the safe landing point. It didn’t help him that the boat was so bloody light. A heavier vessel would have naturally sat lower in the water and wouldn’t have been tossed about quite so violently. Every passing wave pushed him off course, forcing him to correct time and time again until he could feel exhaustion threaten to overcome him. Nevertheless, he gritted his teeth and relentlessly pushed toward land. 

Snow began to fall and he was thankful for that at least. Anyone on the island would have difficulty spotting him in the fading light even if they did believe anyone would be daft enough to be out on the water in such conditions. James would hopefully be able to get ashore and hide the boat before anyone knew he was there. He finally caught sight of the beach and tried to steer towards it but just at that moment another swell caught the boat and shoved him twenty yards closer to the rocks at the eastern end. He calmly opened the throttle, intending to power out of trouble but then a wave crashed over him, almost unsettling him. He yanked on the tiller as he moved ever closer to the rocks. He quickly scanned his surroundings again. The beach was deserted and open. He would have to get the boat out of sight as soon as possible. He just needed to…

There was another swell and the boat ended up right by the cliffs. There was a scraping sound underneath the little vessel and suddenly the tiller came loose. James swore as he realised that the rudder must have been broken off by the jagged rocks below him. He needed to get away from them and he wasn’t going to manage it on a boat that could no longer steer. He reached into the base of the boat, unlashing the drybag that held his phone and his Walther. He’d just picked it up when another wave hit. It felt like a punch between his shoulder blades and the next thing he knew he was in the water. He held his breath as he was tossed, fighting to swim as he was slammed into the rocks. Pain exploded in his leg and he fought the instinct to gasp, knowing full well that water in his lungs would only hasten his death. He used the lull in to swell to push himself off the rocks and get his head above water. If he could just get ashore… 

He only managed three strokes before the next swell battered him into the rocks again. This time his head connected with them, striking him on his temple. He was helpless as consciousness quickly left him.

~00Q~

_‘… fucking idiot…’_

_‘… what the fuck were you thinking you absolute twat you…’_

_‘… move! Fucking MOVE! You’re going to freeze to death and I don’t want to have to explain…’_

James’s head was a riot of pain as he squinted and tried to work out what the hell was happening. It didn’t help that he was swimming in and out of consciousness. He was freezing cold and he’d been face down on a beach. Hadn’t he? He couldn’t tell if he’d dreamed it. Then he was being dragged, someone subjecting him to a litany of cursing. Then he awoke briefly to find himself alone on a sandy path and now this. He was inside now (or out of the wind at least) and someone was trying to strip his clothes off him. He reached down to try to help the person (the man?) by undoing his trousers but his hands were so damn cold and he could only fumble with the zip.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, let me do it!” The man snapped.

His hand was knocked away and his trousers were undone. They were yanked on and the next James knew he was naked from the waist down. He heard a hiss and then fingers pressed onto his thigh. Lightening seemed to lance through it and James grunted in pain. 

“Sorry. Sorry.” The man soothed. “I’m no good at patching people up but I’ll try my best.”

Slim hands slipped into James’s and then he was pulled up into a seated position. The man made short work of the rest of James’s clothes until he was completely naked. He briskly rubbed him down with a towel and then guided him to move over, positioning him on something soft before helping him to lie back. It was a sleeping bag and James sighed as the top of it was wrapped over his chest. The man then pressed a pad to James’s injured thigh before wrapping it in bandages. Once he was done, he slipped James’s feet into the bag and zipped it up halfway. James started to shiver more violently. He realised dispassionately that he was at risk of hypothermia and tried to stop his shivering to keep the little warmth he had left in his core but it was fruitless. The man turned his head gently to place a self-adhesive dressing pad over the cut on his temple. He must have been happy with his first-aid attempts as he cleared away everything and started to undress.

“Now I don’t want you thinking that I’m ‘that kind’ of boy – I mean, I usually like to have dinner at least before jumping into bed with a handsome man such as yourself – but I’d rather you didn’t die. So, we’ll say no more about this in the morning and then you can be on your way.”

James watched through lidded eyes as the man stripped down to his underwear, a thermal vest and a pair of black jockey shorts. He was slim, not the physique James would have expected on a man who’d apparently just managed to drag James up the beach. He didn’t get time to admire his body for long though as he immediately laid down besides James and wriggled into the sleeping bag with him. After a little jostling he managed to do up the zip all the way and tug a blanket over them both. James instinctively wrapped his arms around the man who’d saved his life.

“Christ your hands are cold.” The man grumbled. “Go to sleep now.”

“Thank you. My name is James…” James slurred.

“I don’t care.” He replied tersely.

“I’ll owe you.” James said, pressing his face up against the man’s chest.

“What?”

“Dinner. I’ll owe you…”

The man snorted out a humourless little laugh.

“If you get to live that long…”

James wanted to ask him what he meant by that but the warmth of the man’s body combining with his injuries and exhaustion meant James was asleep before he could speak again.


	2. The Man on the Island

James woke up to find that he was alone in the tent. His head pounded for a moment as he pushed up onto one elbow to survey his surroundings. The tent was sparse, just the bedroll he was lying on and the sleeping bag alongside the remains of a plundered first aid kit. James wondered where the rest of the young man’s belongings were. He raised a hand to his head injury and felt a sizable lump underneath the dressing. Scratching his fingernails down the side of his face lightly, flakes of dried blood came away under them. He’d been bleeding. Listening out for any sign of his host he quickly unzipped the sleeping bag to examine his thigh. The air around him on his naked skin was freezing cold but he ignored it, intent as he was on his task. There was a much larger dressing on his leg, soaked through with blood. Poking out of the bottom and running to his knee was an evil-looking scrape. The rocks must have shredded James’s trousers. He flexed the joint. The leg didn’t feel broken, just very badly bruised. He wondered if his host would know that though and whether James could maybe use it to his advantage…

He heard a noise, like gravel shifting, and James quickly zipped up the sleeping bag before lying back down in the position he’d been in before. He settled, shoving his hands in under his armpits to quickly warm them again. The outer flap quickly unzipped and then rezipped and it sounded like the man kicked off his boots before coming into the sleeping pod. James shifted, as if waking, and he blearily opened his eyes.

“Who are you?” He asked dopily. “Where am I?”

“My name is Quentin although most people call me Q and you are on Great Skellig. Trespassing, in fact.”

“Trespassing?” James queried.

“Between the months of November and March the island is closed to tourists to allow scientists to conduct their work unhindered. I am here on behalf of the British Geological Survey and you, Sir, are a hindrance.”

“But I am one, a scientist I mean. I’m Richard Stirling, an ornithologist. I’m here to study the nesting sites of the Alcids that migrate here.”

“Richard, eh? Wow, you really must’ve hit your head hard.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Last night. You told me your name was James.” Q said.

Bugger. James laughed to cover his annoyance at having potentially blown his cover so quickly.

“That’s my middle name,” He said smoothly. “I was named after my father. My mother took to calling me James as a child to save her the confusion of using the same name for her son and her husband – my family and friends all call me James now. I must have seen you as a friend when you saved my life last night. Thank you.” He smiled softly at Q and was delighted to see a spot of warm colour appear on each of his cheeks. That was interesting… it seemed as though the young man might have found him attractive. James tucked the thought aside wondering if he could use that to his advantage too.

Q sat back on his heels and started to rummage through the bag he’d brought with him.

“All my gear is at my primary campsite, about three hundred steps up the hill towards the monastic ruins.” He started to say, looking for all the world like he was changing the subject. “You’re lucky I’d come down to the shoreline to watch the waves in the snow… I knew I wouldn’t be able to drag you all the way up there – you weigh a fucking ton, by the way – so I cleared out my belongings back into my shipping crates and dragged my tent down here.” He drew out a lunchbox and flask and set them down besides him before pulling out James’s clothing. “I managed to dry off this lot for you, which was no easy task in this temperature. I expect the rest of your stuff was lost last night. Luckily your boat came ashore this morning. The rudder needs fixing but it should get you back to the mainland. I’ll check the shore again in a bit. See if any of your other stuff washes up.”

“I’m not sure I’ll feel up to going back today…” James said cautiously.

“Well you can’t stay here.” Q replied quickly. “I have my work to do and you’ve already put me behind schedule. I can’t feed you much either. I can spare you breakfast and that’s it.”

“Can’t you radio the mainland for me? See if someone could help me?” James asked.

“No. My radio failed the first day I was here. I don’t need it though. I have my work and a ship will come to take me off the island once it’s done. I suggest you put some clothes on and set to repairing that rudder.”

Q picked up the flask and lunchbox and put them down next to James. As quick as a flash James reached out with a hand that was warm again to lightly grasp Q’s.

“Thank you, Q.” He said quietly, massaging his thumb over the pulse point on the inside of Q’s wrist. Q hesitated for a second, his expression softening before he seemed to shake himself, pulling his hand away.

“You’re welcome, James, but you really do need to leave.”

Q got up and went back into the porch. James heard him put his coat and boots back on before leaving the tent. He laid back, trying to work out what he’d just glimpsed. The inside of Q’s wrist had a small tattoo. James had pushed back the cuff of his jumper under the guise of rubbing his wrist to get a better look at it. Unless James was mistaken, it looked uncannily like a symbol placed by one of the houses involved in the Macau sex trade. 

After a few minutes’ contemplation, James sat up and pulled his clothing towards himself. He picked up his thermal base layer and t-shirt and put them on. As they went over his head he frowned. They smelt clean. He shrugged them all the way on and then picked up his jumper. Holding it to his face he inhaled deeply before cautiously putting the hem between his lips. He allowed it to become wet with his saliva and sucked. It also smelled too fresh and he couldn’t taste salt. It had been washed. He put the jumper on and wondered. How would a British scientist who was once owned by a sex house in Macau be able to wash and dry clothing overnight on a barren, windswept island in freezing weather? There was certainly more to the mysterious Q than met the eye and James needed to find out exactly what. 

James ate breakfast slowly. The lunchbox had contained some hard-boiled eggs that were still warm, salami and a type of pumpernickel bread. The flask was filled with piping hot, sweet, black coffee which James drank greedily. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d had such a good brew. Once he’d finished, he tugged the first aid box towards him. There were still plenty of supplies so he removed the dressing from his head. He used one of the cleaning wipes, wincing as it stung, but after feeling around, James was satisfied it would do just as well uncovered. His thigh was another matter. The skin was badly cut under the bandaging and still oozing blood in a couple of places. He rooted through the first aid box and found some packs of field sutures, complete with needles. He cleaned up the wounds with the wipes and started to stitch up the worst of the damage.

He was halfway through when the tent opened and Q came back in. Once his outer clothing was off, he came back into the sleeping pod.

“I just wondered if you’d finished with the… oh!”

James looked up from what he was doing to see Q blushing furiously before he quickly turned his back.

“Problem?” James asked.

“You… I thought you’d be dressed by now! I came to see if you needed a hand with your boat. I can come back.”

James glanced down and grinned as he realised that he was still half-naked, his cock quite visible as it peeked out from beneath his jumper.

“I didn’t want to get my clothes any more bloody than they already were. What do you care anyway? You were pressed up against my naked body last night as I recall.…”

“Yes, but that was to help you. You were hypothermic. You needed warming.”

“Hmm, and yet the sight of the old fellow seems all too much for you this morning.” James teased. Q suddenly made a move to the entrance and James realised he’d made a mistake. He grabbed his trousers and dropped them into his lap, covering himself up. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be crude. Here, is this better?”

Q looked around cautiously and then nodded.

“Yes. Sorry. It’s just… sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” James replied. “Just give me a couple of minutes to finish up here and we can go to look at the boat.”

Q nodded, still looking nervous, but he squatted down, just out of James’s reach as he began to sew again.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes, but the alternative option of it healing badly or getting an infection would hurt more.”

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“I was in the Navy. Special services. I can’t tell you much more than that though I’m afraid, it’s classified. It was where I developed my love of birds actually. I was stationed on the Falkland Islands for two years.”

“I’ve never been there.” Q said wistfully. “Were you there during the war?”

James chuckled.

“Christ, do I look that old?” He joked. “No, a few years afterwards. Have you travelled much Mr, eh…” He trailed off but Q didn’t seem to take the hint.

“No, not really. Benidorm and Berlin with my family, a few other places… Ibiza for a lad’s holiday.”

James nodded, apparently concentrating on what he was doing but the truth was, Q’s words had a ring of untruth about them. He couldn’t imagine the slight, well-spoken young man going on a booze-soaked trip with his friends. That was what lad’s holidays had always meant to James anyway. He put in the last two stitches and tied off the thread, using the heavy-duty scissors from the first aid kit to trim it.

“There. Done.”

“Can I see?” Q asked.

James was surprised at the question but nodded.

“Of course.”

Q leaned over to examine the stitches and James took the opportunity to examine his host properly. He looked to be in his twenties … no wait, in his thirties. James spotted a hint of wrinkling around his eyes that indicated he was older than he first appeared. There was also the faintest smattering of greying hair at his temples. For all the signs of age, he truly had a lovely face though. Sharp, intelligent eyes, high cheekbones and beautifully pouting lips. James wondered what it would be like to kiss them. As the thought crossed his mind Q glanced up at him. James fancied he saw the briefest of smiles pull at his mouth before he looked back at James’s leg.

“Will it be OK now? For you to be able to leave today?”

There is was again, that insistence that James be gone.

“You really don’t want me here, do you?” He asked gently.

“It’s not that. I don’t mean to be an arse but I’m taking soil samples at the moment. There’s been rain for weeks which means that all the potential contamination from tourists last year is markedly reduced. I know where I’ve been so I can make sure that I take surface samples from places that I haven’t stepped but with you wandering about…”

“I’d cock up your experiments.”

Q smiled.

“Exactly. Look there’s a few storms due this week and my work will be done here very soon. I’m being collected by my employer in a couple of days. He’d be furious if he saw anyone else had been here. You’d get me into a lot of trouble.”

“I see,” James said, “I’m not sure I’ll be up to much walking about with this leg, to be honest…” He trailed off. James could see that Q looked uncomfortable. Anxious even. A strange reaction for a man who could easily finish his experiment with an injured man sat in his tent. And the thing he’d said about food earlier… a few of days of light rations wouldn’t hurt him and then his employers could have taken James to safety in their ship… a simple act of charity for the apparently caring young man… unless there was something about his employer that Q didn’t want James to see… Q was watching intently as James quickly mulled everything over so he smiled at him. “You’d much rather that I left and came back to carry out my work next week once the storms have passed. I totally understand. It might be better for me actually. I gave my leg one hell of a whack coming ashore. I could probably do with getting it looked at.”

“Thank you.” The relief on Q’s face at James’s words was evident.

James tugged the first aid box towards him.

“Would you mind helping me to bind this up again? You did such a good job last night.”

Q nodded and James saw it again. That light flush of embarrassment pinking up his cheeks. Or was it attraction? Despite Q’s reaction to James’s nudity which had bordered on prudish, he hadn’t hesitated to accept the invitation to sit with James. Trying to make it seem like an unconscious action as he reached forward to grab a roll of bandage, James tugged his trousers in closer to his crotch, keeping himself covered but exposing another couple of inches of his thigh. Q noticed and the flush in his cheeks intensified.

“What…” Q paused to clear his throat. “What do you need me to do?”

James smiled to himself and handed Q one of the large dressing pads.

“Can you get that out of its packet and hold it steady over the wound?”

“Over the bit that you stitched?” Q queried. The pad was shorter than the entire length of the graze.

“Yes please.” James replied as he tore open the bandage’s packaging. He reached down to hold the dressing pad steady, accidentally on purpose brushing his fingers over Q’s. Before he had a chance to react, James handed him the bandage. “Would you mind?”

James held the pad steady for a moment and then leaned back onto his elbow as Q wound the bandage around James’s thigh. His new position stretched out his body slightly exposing his naked hip. Q must have noticed, his hands began to tremble oh-so-slightly as he worked. James fought the urge to grin. Q’s touch was light and he’d be a liar if he’d said it wasn’t affecting him. He felt his cock twitch and he wondered what the young man would do if he invited him to touch it. If the sweet burning blush on his cheeks was anything to go by, he would probably run a mile, James mused. He suddenly blinked as he realised Q had said something.

“Sorry? I was miles away.”

“I said is that OK?” Q asked.

James sat up straight and looked down to examine Q’s neat work.

“It’s perfect.” He admitted. He reached out to take Q’s hand and, wonder of wonders, he let him. Moving slowly, he leaned further forward to softly kiss his cheek. “Thank you. You’ve been very kind, taking care of me like this.” Q sat motionless, dropping his head forward slightly, as if in submission. Encouraged, James kissed him again and then moved down to place another kiss on the side of the man’s throat, relishing the feel of Q’s soft hair brushing over his face. For a moment Q seemed to sink into it before he suddenly pulled away and stood up.

“Please don’t.” He said hoarsely. “You need to leave. I’ll meet you on the beach.”

“Q? I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that…”

It was no good. Q dressed in his outer clothes and left the tent without another word.

James could have kicked himself. He’d come on too strong and frightened Q. Cursing to himself, he tried to stand. His leg was sore but James was almost certain that it wasn’t fractured. He tested his weight on it successfully and then started to dress again. He needed to stay on the island, ideally without Q’s knowledge. There was something wrong with the way he was trying to get rid of James. He wondered if he was involved with Archangel. It seemed unlikely but he was definitely desperate that his employers not know that James had been there. Maybe it was just a case of Q’s employer being a Government-funded jobsworth, maybe Q was worried his test results would be skewed, maybe James was being paranoid but just because he was being paranoid didn’t mean the mysterious Q wasn’t up to something. James wondered how likely it was that Q had been dropped on the island by the gang behind Archangel, maybe to maintain radio equipment. Had it been Q sending that message to the smugglers on his employer’s instructions?

James put on his thermal long johns and saw that one leg was damaged where the rocks had caught them. He picked up another bandage and wrapped it over his thigh to keep it warm, trying not to think about Q’s fingers running over his leg or the soft skin of his neck under James’s lips or the sweet warm aroma of bergamot and menthol he’d inhaled as he’d pressed his face into his hair and…

James paused.

Fresh shampoo.

Q’s hair had smelled of fresh shampoo.

On an island in the middle of nowhere, where he’d been alone working for weeks in freezing weather.

Why the hell had he recently washed his hair?

James finished getting dressed, formulating his next move. He would fix the boat. Go out to sea and around the coast as if he was going back to the mainland. There was another cove a few hundred yards around the headland. James had noticed it when he was studying the maps of the island. He’d dismissed it as too small when coming in under cover of darkness but he should be able to land there in daylight. He would deflate and stow the boat somewhere out of sight and then explore the island properly. If he was lucky, Q would never see him.

Once bundled up against the weather, James left the tent. The wind whipped around him, trying to take his breath away. He was a little way up from the beach, to the side of a small path. Looking left he could see that the path turned into stone steps a few yards on. He turned right and headed for the shoreline. As he reached the edge of the sand he saw Q kneeling over his rib, so he slowed his walking until he was limping badly. As he got closer he saw that Q had a tool box open and had managed to cobble the rudder mechanism back together.

“I thought _you_ were going to help _me_ …” James quipped. Q jumped and turned around, frowning when he saw the way James was limping.

“I got tired of waiting for you. Is your leg OK?”

“Not really. It’s very painful. I think I might have cracked the bone.”

“You need to get that looked at.” Q said. “Promise me you’ll get that looked at as soon as you get back to the mainland.”

There it was again, that sweet concern. Coming from a man that didn’t want to share his food or have him on the island a moment longer than he had to.

“I promise and sorry about kissing you like that” He added as Q stood up.

“That’s OK. Sorry I reacted the way I did. It was nice but I’ve had a lot of people take advantage of me in my life…” He trailed off and shrugged, as if that explained everything.

It did, in a way.

“Next time I’ll ask permission first.” James smiled.

“Thank you but I don’t think there’ll be a ‘next time’” Q said, sounding almost a little disappointed. “Anyway!” He added quickly, obviously changing the subject. “I’ve fixed the rudder. A coupling had broken so I managed to make you a new one out of some bits. It should get you back no problem.” 

James nodded and then looked at the waves coming in. He frowned.

“You know, not to be a pessimist, but those waves don’t look good. What time was high tide?”

“Um, about six this morning?”

James looked at his watch. It was ten.

“That tide is going out.” James mused. “Which should be ideal. But the wind is in completely the wrong direction. Look at how high those waves are.” He watched Q as his eyes widened. “I don’t think I’m going to get out of the bay…” A gem of a new plan began to formulate. He licked his finger and held it up. He glanced around. “The wind is coming from the South East… that’s not good… not good at all. Alright. I’ll probably have a chance if I can time it right. I’ll tell you what, you get the bow end of the rib and we’ll…” He took an apparently absent-minded step forward onto his injured leg and then swore, allowing his knee to buckle before catching himself. “Fuck it! Ah, Jesus that hurts…” He hopped and would have fallen had Q not immediately tucked himself in under James’s arm, holding him around his waist.

“Are you OK?” 

James hissed and squeezed his eyes tight for a moment, leaning heavily on him.

“It’ll be OK. It just felt like something popped on the side of my knee...” He ground out through clenched teeth. “I know, I know… I need to go, you made that very clear. Just give me a moment.” He panted, as if he was in agony, and then straightened up. “I’ll be OK once I’m in the boat.” He patted Q’s shoulder with a deliberately trembling hand.

“You can’t.” Q said in a small voice. “Not today.”

“What?”

“You’re hurt and the weather’s all wrong and I don’t want to send you out and then have something happen to you all because I said you had to leave today. You can stay in my tent and then the wind might be better tomorrow. You should be able to leave tomorrow, shouldn’t you? The weather’s never the same for two days running on this godforsaken rock.”

“Thank you.” James said, trying to sound relieved. “Thank you so much. Would you mind helping me back to the tent?”

They slowly made their way back up the path. James’s knee ‘gave out’ another couple of times and he was forced to cling to Q. Once at the tent Q helped him off with his coat and boots before guiding him back down onto the sleeping bag. James collapsed back onto it, panting.

“Shall I make you some more coffee?” Q asked. “Did you like it? I saw that you drank it all.”

“That was honestly some of the best coffee I’d ever had.” James admitted.

Q blushed again and James was beginning to love the way he could elicit that response from him.

“I’m more of a tea-drinker but I do like a decent light roast. I have a few things that I need to do first though. Why don’t you rest and I’ll bring you some in a little while?”

“That sounds just about perfect.” James replied.

He stayed lying down until he heard Q leave. After a few minutes he cautiously got up and got dressed again. Opening the tent flap, he stepped out, taking care to maintain his terrible limp. Until he knew exactly where Q was, he didn’t want him seeing James walking normally. It had stopped snowing momentarily and the sun had taken the brief opportunity to shine down brightly. He took a couple of shambling paces towards the base of the steps and then paused. There was a glint, catching the unexpectedly bright sunlight, on the shingle pile besides James. James limped most of the way past, casting fleeting sideways glances towards it. On the third glimpse his suspicions were confirmed. It was a minute camera, set to cover the entrance to the tent and the pathway.

Without making any indication that he’d seen it, James came to a precarious halt and balanced on his uninjured leg. After glancing around himself, as if to look for Q, James undid his trousers and drew his cock out of his underwear. He pissed and then redressed before slowly making his way back to the tent, his reason for leaving it explained to anyone watching.

He went inside and settled down again on the sleeping bag. He was being watched but the question was, by who? By Q? Probably, but was it just Q or were there others on the island with him? Either way, he now knew that there was no way he was going to be able to explore the island that day without immediately giving himself away. He relaxed and shrugged to himself as he laid back, his hands behind his head. His plan thwarted, he thought he might as well catch up on some rest while he thought of a new one and waited for Q to return.


	3. Under the Cover of Darkness

James hadn’t actually expected to fall asleep but he must have been more tired than he thought. He was woken by the sound of Q coming back into the tent. It was darker and the wind was blowing again. He glanced at his watch; it was almost five o’clock. Q stepped inside, shivering theatrically, and quickly did up the inner zip.

“Fuck me, it’s cold out there!” He groused. His arms were full and James watched as he carefully put down the flask, the lunchbox and a lamp, followed by another blanket. He then sat down. “I don’t have another sleeping bag but I found this in one of my storage boxes. I thought it would do for me tonight. I’ll have to sleep in here though. My little lean-to at my original camp protects my cooking equipment but it won’t protect me from the elements.”

“I’ll take the blanket, you have the sleeping bag.” James said as he sat up. “I’ve abused your hospitality quite enough for one day. You should at least have your own bedding.”

“No. You’re hurt. Your leg will be even more uncomfortable if you get cold.” Q replied.

“Then at least share the sleeping bag with me again. I’d rather like to be able to hold you again like I did last night.”

Q’s cheeks pinked as he shook his head.

“I… we shouldn’t.”

“Not even if I ask you permission first?” James asked with a tilt of his head.

Q’s eyes widened and he unconsciously licked his lips as he realised what James was hinting at.

“What if I say no? If I don’t want to do… that?” Q asked. For all his hesitance, he seemed tempted by James’s implied offer.

“Then we simply sleep side-by-side but we are _very_ warm.”

James’s words hung for a second, like a spell on the air of the small tent and then the wind gusted outside and the spell seemed to break.

“Look what I’ve got.” Q said, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a battered old packet of playing cards. “Fancy a game?”

“More than you know.” James said with a smile.

They played for hours by the light of the small lamp, drinking the coffee and eating the food that Q had brought. They played Rummy and Spit. James taught Q how to play Durak and in return Q taught James to play a game called Egyptian Rat Screw. They were both equally competitive and James used the time that they played to continue subtly flirting with the younger man. Q seemed happy to chat about general things but he was cagey when it came to talking about himself. James was careful to let every absence of fact slide through the conversation so as not to make Q feel like James noticed that he was being evasive. In return he answered any questions that Q had about his ‘studies’ into the native avian population, keeping the facts to a bare minimum and going off on tangents at every opportunity. Hopefully, Q would accept James as the scientist he’d said he was. James guessed he’d been successful in not arousing his suspicions when Q started to yawn and sleepily laid down on his blanket, his head propped up on one hand as he dealt them another game of Double Solitaire.

“You should get some sleep. What time did you wake up this morning?” James asked.

Q shrugged.

“Before dawn. I’ve always been an early riser…” He placed a card and then shook his head as he realised that he’d made a mistake. “Shit. I think you might be right.” He admitted as he took it back.

“Come on.” James said, sitting up. He stripped off his jumper and t-shirt until he was just dressed in his thermal vest. He then laid back to take off his trousers.

“What are you doing?” Q asked, his eyes wide.

“I told you, I want you to sleep here with me tonight.” James said. “I won’t take no for an answer. It’s freezing and I need your body heat over here, every bit as much as you need mine. The heat exchange won't be as effective if we're wearing too many layers.” He held out his hand and for a moment he thought Q would say no. He hesitated, as if having an internal debate with himself and then stood up abruptly, quickly stripping down to his underwear just as he had the night before. He passed James his blanket which he spread out over the sleeping bag along with the one that James already had. James then laid back and waiting for Q to lie down.

“Whatever happens tonight,” Q said in a small voice, hesitating, “you will remember to be kind to me, won’t you?”

Whatever James might have expected Q to say, he was pretty sure he would never have guessed that. Did that mean that Q didn’t trust James to keep his hands to himself or was it that he wanted James to be gentle if they made love? While he was still trying to work it out, Q laid down beside him, his back to him. James immediately wrapped his hand around his waist as Q zipped up the bag and pulled the blankets over them. Q snaked a hand out to turn off the light and then burrowed down. 

James waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark as they warmed up. The sleeping bag was large but it was still a tight fit for two grown men, even when one of them was as slim as Q. Every inch of his body was plastered along Q’s back and his hand was flat on Q’s slim belly. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax, hoping to God that he didn’t get an erection. That was the last thing he needed when he’d spent the evening trying to come across as non-threatening as possible.

“I’m no good at this.” Q suddenly said quietly.

“No good at what?” James asked. He felt Q shiver as James’s breath ghosted over the back of Q’s neck.

“I have a habit… of ending up with men who know what they want… who take what they want… but now you… Oh, I don’t know. Just ignore me.”

James smoothed his hand comfortingly over Q’s stomach.

“Is there something that _you_ want Q?”

He nodded, silent. James pressed a soft kiss to the back of his shoulder through his t-shirt.

“Is it something that you want from me?

Q nodded again.

“Can you tell me?”

There was a pause but Q didn’t speak.

“Can you _show_ me?”

Q nodded and then stretched out as much as the sleeping bag would allow him. James fought the urge to groan as the younger man’s hips pushed back onto him. At the same time, Q gently guided James’s hand down…

Sweet Jesus, he was hard.

James closed his fingers around Q’s cock, holding it through his shorts.

“Oh darling, do you want me to make you come?”

The sound of the sleeping bag unzipping seemed terribly loud as Q opened it to allow himself to stretch out further and buck into James’s fist before pushing back onto James’s now rapidly hardening cock.

“I want you to fuck me.” He whispered.

James pushed up onto his elbow and looked down at Q. He was looking up at him, open-mouthed and looking absolutely beautiful in the thin moonlight that was seeping into the tent. James leant over him to kiss him and Q lifted his head up off the pillow to meet his lips greedily. James sighed as Q slid his fingers up into his hair to pull him down into yet more kisses.

“Tell me what you want. Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll do it.” James whispered between kisses.

“I want you to fuck me with that big cock of yours.” Q said. “I want to feel every inch of it as it slides into me. I want you to open me up. Can you do that to me James?”

“I would love to make love to you, but I’m afraid I don’t have any protection with me…” James said, wondering where Q had learned to speak like that. It seemed so out of character for the shy young man. He wondered if it he’d been taught it in the same place that he’d gained his tattoo. James felt a sudden surge of pity for him. Maybe Q had been taught that the way to connect with someone was to offer them what he thought they wanted. James was a big man, he was fully aware of that and maybe Q had experience of big men being rough and uncaring. Maybe James could show him that it didn’t have to be that way. Q broke off their kisses long enough to drag his jeans towards him. He reached into the pocket and pulled out condoms and a little bottle of lube. James chuckled when he saw them.

“Proper little boy scout, aren’t you?”

Q seemed to hesitate.

“Was it wrong of me? I mean… I don’t want to come across as a slut…” He asked. He started to look worried, as if he thought James was about to tell him off. James huffed out a little laugh and let go of Q’s cock so he could stroke the side of his face.

“Oh, you sweet thing. Who hurt you?”

Q froze at his softly-spoken words. In a flash he’d sat up on their makeshift bed and was picking up his jeans. He started to yank them on.

“Sorry. So sorry.” He muttered. “I shouldn’t have… I can’t…” 

James sat up behind him, stroking Q’s back and instantly regretting it when he saw how it made the younger man jump.

“It’s me who should be apologising… I’m sorry if I upset you.” He watched as Q picked up his jumper. “Q… _Q_!”

The young man was still ignoring James in his apparent panic so James took control of the situation by grabbing hold of Q wrist and drawing him into a hug, kissing his shoulder again. He thought for a moment that Q would fight him and he was more than ready to let go before Q sobbed and melted into James’s arms.

“Q?”

Q shivered and then turned to kiss James again. It was slower and softer than before and James took care not to hold him too tightly, pausing every few seconds and willing Q to know that he could stop at any time. Eventually he pulled away and gave James a sad smile.

“I’m sorry. Whatever must you think of me?” He said.

“I think you’re beautiful and I think people might have taken advantage of that. Of you. I think you’ve been lonely here and that you wanted some company tonight but you were nervous about asking for it. I think that you would like me to make love to you, but you’re too afraid that I’ll be like all those other men who just took what they wanted. I won’t. I don’t make love that way. I get no pleasure from it. I want to give you everything that you want and nothing more.”

Q didn’t say anything. He melted into James’s arms, allowing him to lay them down again. They lay almost motionless for several minutes, James placing soft kisses on Q’s hairline, his hand rubbing soothing circles onto his back. Slowly, lightly at first, James felt Q’s fingers trailing down over his stomach. He breathed out into Q’s hair and then used a single finger under Q’s chin to tilt his face up towards him. He kissed him again, shivering as Q’s slim fingers found his cock and he gripped it, moulding the material of his thermal underwear around it. He felt himself harden under Q’s expert touch. He stroked and James groaned making Q laugh quietly.

“I should probably take my jeans off again...” He murmured

Q gave James one more kiss before pulling away from him to strip back down to his underwear. Ordinarily James would have taken the time it took Q to take his jeans off again to strip himself naked but he didn’t want to overwhelm him again. He would get naked if Q wanted him naked and besides, the tent was still bloody freezing. Q laid down again and shivered as he snuggled in, his head resting on James’s shoulder. James grabbed the covers and bundled him up, kissing his forehead, and then laughed as Q’s cold hands wormed their way under his clothing and onto his stomach.

“Fucking hell, they’re cold!” James exclaimed and he heard Q chuckle. “You monkey. I shall have to warm you up.” He rolled them slightly so he was leaning over Q. He pushed a stray curl back off his forehead and smiled. Q smiled back as his hands moved down James’s body, one of them tugging his waistband away from him, the other trailing down to his cock again. James hissed as his cool fingers wrapped around it. They kissed and James asked; “Tell me, little monkey, how would you like me to warm you up?”

Q gave him a stroke and then wriggled, turning his back to James. When James slid his hand down over his hip, he realised that he’d pulled down his shorts.

“Oh darling…”

James settled down, pulling Q’s back towards him with his forearm wrapped around his chest. With the other hand he stroked down over one of his buttocks to tease at the valley below. He kissed the back of his ear as he drew out his cock fully and slid it between Q’s thighs. Q sighed and squeezed them together to form a tight channel.

“Oh my god…”

James started a slow thrust, the precome that had been wetting the head of his cock ever since Q first touched him serving to ease the glide. It felt divine and James closed his eyes, smoothing his hand up over Q’s belly, savouring the feel of his body. He was warming up now, pushing back onto James with every stroke. It was perfect but he could only allow himself a few moments more before he had to slow his movements. Q made an enquiring noise.

“Tell me what you want.” James murmured as he reached down to grasp his own cock. He squeezed the base to lessen his arousal and then pressed it firmly against Q arsehole. “Do you still want me here? Only I’m not going to last much longer if we keep doing what we’re doing.”

Q whined.

“Yes, please. Make love to me? I want to feel you inside me.”

James didn’t need to ask again, Q answer sounding so much more truthful than his earlier request. He reached over and took a condom from where Q had dropped them and quickly put it on. He then took the small bottle of lube. He slicked up his fingers and then smeared it around Q’s entrance, massaging it before slipping a finger inside. Q gasped. He was so tight but he opened up beautifully to James, quickly allowing him to slide in a second finger. He was about to add a third when Q grabbed his wrist to slow his movements.

“No. Please.” He whispered. “I want to feel the stretch.”

James withdrew his fingers and smeared more lube over his covered cock before setting the head to Q’s hole once more. He kissed the back of Q’s shoulder as he pushed in. He managed a couple of inches before stopping, allowing Q a moment to adjust. He was so tight. James was terrified that he was hurting him but the effect on Q was electric. He sighed, almost as if it was with relief, as he pushed back and took another inch and another and then another until he had James up to the base.

James froze. The pressure was intense. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made love to a man... He fucked regularly, Moneypenny had been right on that score, but _this_ … this sort of intense, slow fuck was rare and it was almost too much to bear. He was sure that if he moved, he would come like some randy teenager in bed with his boyfriend for the first time. Q must have guessed as he lay still, his hand on James’s hip, fingers playing over his skin. James reached forward and found that Q had softened so he alternated between stroking him gently and rolling his balls over his fingers, cupping them, until his cock stood up proudly again.

“Can you come from being fucked or do you want my hand? Tell me what you want.” James said, nudging their heads together so he could kiss Q’s neck. The young man shivered and moved so James had free access to the pulse point at its base.

“Move slowly, please, and stroke me. I want to come first and then feel you fuck me once I’m sensitive. I want to feel you come inside me.”

James nodded and started to move, slowly rocking his hips, undulating, as his hand stroked. He wondered how many times Q had been left wanting. How many times had Q have a partner come only to leave him unsatisfied? It was a crime. He was so responsive, so ready for pleasure. James kissed his neck again and then had to stop himself from laughing when Q tensed up, moments from coming from the extra stimulation. He licked the skin beneath his lips and slowed his movements making Q whine with frustration but he soothed him.

“Shhh… easy. There’s no rush, just relax and let me take care of you. Let me take my time with you, please?”

Q nodded and gasped as James started to stroke again.

He managed it three more times, pushing Q to the edge of orgasm before easing him back. Eventually though he could feel Q getting impatient so the fourth time he let him go. It was a slow build with James’s steady, slow thrusting, the unrelenting pressure of his hand, the featherlight kisses along Q’s neck. When he started to crest again, he started to beg.

“James… please.”

“Are you going to come for me sweetheart?” James asked. Q nodded. “Push the blankets away then, let me see.” Q shivered as he did as he was told. There was enough light for James to see the paleness of Q’s belly as he pulled up his t-shirt, the shine of his exposed cock’s head, his foreskin long since retracted, the dark shock of his pubic hair. James wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything so lovely. “See how well you fit in my hand.” He whispered. “Look at yourself. So beautiful. Perfect.” He sped up his hand. “Come for me now, beautiful boy. Show me what you can do.” Q had done as he was told and was watching himself. He started to tense up again and James let him go this final time, twisting his hand over the head of his cock with every fast stroke. The hand that was still resting on James’s hip tightened along with the grip of Q’s channel around James’s cock. He kicked out for a moment as the pressure became intolerable and then he started to come. 

He shouted out, intelligible nonsenses, babbling as his cock jerked in James’s hand and ribbons of white come spattered up his belly. He slumped as wave after wave of pleasure consumed him. James stroked him through it all, struggling to stay seated in him as he clenched and threatened to expel his cock. Finally, he shivered and James let his cock go. Without giving him a moment to recover, James rolled him fully onto his side and grabbed his hip. He pulled him in flush to his body, holding him still as he started to fuck him, long forceful strokes that made their flesh slap together with every impact. Q started to moan, gripping onto James’s forearm where it wrapped around his chest. He arched back, offering James the deepest possible angle until he was crying out on every stroke. James started to pant, finally feeling warm in their frigid tent, as he neared his own orgasm. The condom did nothing to help reduce his sensitivity for once and within minutes he couldn’t take any more, holding onto Q bruisingly tight as he grunted and came deep inside him.

They lay panting for several minutes. James clumsily dragging the covers back up over them as they recovered. Q still had his back to James but he shifted when he gently stroked his back.

“Are you OK?” He asked quietly. Q nodded but didn’t move. James heard a quiet sniff and he wondered if Q was crying. He held him steady as he withdrew and removed the condom, tossing it into the corner of the tent before pulling his clothing back into position. He kissed the back of Q’s shoulder and then tugged on it, encouraging Q to roll over and face him. He did so quickly, burying his face in James’s chest. After a moment he spoke.

“Thank you.”

James kissed his forehead.

“Was that what you wanted?”

Q nodded and then huffed out a laugh.

“It was exactly what I wanted.” He looked up and smiled. “ _Exactly_.”

James kissed him again and then gave him space to let him pull up his underwear. They settled again with James on his back and Q’s head on his shoulder, curled around him. They stayed that way until they both drifted off to sleep. 

James really only slept soundly for an hour or so and for the rest of the night he dozed. Q was a heavy weight on his shoulder and he found a surprising amount of comfort in having him so close. It was true that he didn’t totally trust the man but he found himself strangely drawn to him. He was very clever, the ingenious way he’d fixed the rudder on James’s boat was evidence of that, but the discovery of the camera was an indication that he wasn’t just there collecting soil samples. There were the other things too. James’s dry, washed clothing, the fresh smell of shampoo in Q’s hair… 

James was still intent on exploring the island, he needed to find out what Q was up to. He’d originally wanted to do it without Q’s knowledge but he wondered how likely that was now, now that James knew that the island was being surveilled. He wondered what Q’s reaction would be if James just asked him what he was really doing there. James took Q's hand which was resting on his chest, turning it slightly to examine the tattoo on his wrist. It was old, as if it had been put there when Q was a child. James wondered how such a young western boy would have come to be bought and sold by a Macau house. Q shifted, whining in his sleep and pulled away his hand to bury it under the covers. James absent-mindedly kissed his hair as he snuggled in. Q craved touch, that was evident from the way he was clinging to James in his sleep, but he was used to men taking advantage of him. They were both signs that he’d been controlled from an early age.

He was owned by Archangel, James was becoming more and more sure of it. He wondered how devoted to him Q really was? If James revealed himself as an MI6 agent, would he leap at the chance to escape with him or had he been owned by him for so long that he was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome? He felt a twist in his chest when he thought about Q being dominated in such a way and wondered if he was beginning to fall for him. He tried to push the thoughts aside but they refused to go away entirely. He remembered the way Q shied away from James when he thought he’d done wrong and the way he’d pushed back onto his cock, eager for pleasure and connection when they’d made love. James wrapped his arms around Q and drew him in closer, listening to the wind howling outside. He would work it all out in the morning.

~00Q~

Around the time dawn broke, James felt Q pull away from him. He opened his eyes to see him getting up.

“Q?”

He leaned over and kissed his lips softly.

“Good morning. Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you. I need to go to work.”

“Shame. Wouldn’t you rather stay here with me?” James asked playfully.

Q smiled as he stood up again to get dressed.

“I would but I have a job to do. I have monitoring equipment that needs checking regularly,” He seemed to hesitate before continuing sadly, “and besides. You need to go. You’ll get me into so much trouble if my boss comes here tomorrow and he finds you here.”

James sat up.

“But what then? What if I leave? I’ve never been one to just fuck and run. Would I be able to see you again?” He asked.

“Please don’t ask me that.” Q said quietly as James clumsily stood up, his injured leg genuinely stiff and painful after the night’s rest.

“Why not?” James took a step towards him but he immediately stepped back, keeping the distance between them. “I felt something between us last night. It was there, wasn’t it? I didn’t imagine it? There was a connection. Didn’t you feel it, Q?”

“No, I didn’t.” He put his hands up, warding off James when he went to step forward again. He was lying, James could tell. “Please James. Stay here. I’ll be back in a while, I’ll bring you some breakfast, but then you really have to go.”

James stood and watched as Q left the tent wondering just how much of what he’d just said to Q was actually the truth. He got dressed and then sat down again, wondering what his next move should be. He needed to get moving. He needed to search the island. He would leave the tent, he decided, head straight up towards the monastic ruins. There was a stone staircase that led straight to them and Q said his original camp was halfway up. That must have been what Felix spotted on the satellite images. He could approach with caution, leaving the path to climb the rocks to avoid the cameras. He was an expert climber and he’d studied photographs of the terrain. It was nothing he couldn’t handle. It was time he did what he’d come to the island to do. Decision made, he took his coat out of the outer section of the tent and put it on before putting on his boots. He unzipped the tent and…

“Who the fuck are you?” Q was standing in front of the tent, out of breath as if he’d just run up from the beach. That must have been exactly what had happened. In one hand he had James’s dry bag which he’d lost in the night he’d washed ashore. In the other hand, his Walther, which he was currently pointing at him. “Your bag was on the hightide line. This is a Walther PPK .32 ACP. A common enough gun but certainly not a common choice among ornithologists. A favourite of intelligence agencies around the globe though. Am I right? Which one are you? CIA? MI6?”

James considered lying for a moment but the look on Q’s face stopped him. He could see that he was scared.

“My name is Bond. James Bond. Agent 007 with MI6.”

“They sent a double-oh? Why? To kill me?”

“No. We had a tip off from the Americans. I’m here for Archangel.”

“Archangel?”

“What do you know about them?”

Q shook his head.

“I can’t…”

“Your employer is on his way here, isn’t he?" James said, taking a gamble, "That’s why you were so desperate for me to leave? You weren’t worried you were going to get into trouble, you were worried he was going to kill me, weren’t you? Give me the bag, Q. Keep the gun if you like, if it makes you feel safer. I won’t hurt you, but give me the bag. It has my mobile in there. It has satellite capabilities. I can call my friend Felix and get us out of here.”

“I can’t do that.” Q replied, tightening his grip on the gun. “I destroyed your phone. Threw it in the water.”

“No matter.” James said smoothly. “The wind has dropped. I can pilot us out of here. I can get you away. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To stop being a pawn. Stop being used…” Q seemed to waver. “I can get you away from Archangel.”

Q snorted out a humourless laugh at that.

“Oh, my dear Mr Bond. I’m not sure even a man of your abilities could manage that.” 

James must have looked puzzled.

“James, I _am_ Archangel.”


	4. Down the Rabbit Hole

James was stunned. Q? This slight thing, this _boy_ , one of the world’s most wanted criminals? He took a step, reeling, just as his knee ‘gave way’ again. Q didn’t have time to realise what was happening. As soon as he glanced down to James’s feet, James exploded into action, surging forward and grabbing Q’s wrist and closing his fingers over the gun. He forced his hand upwards, twisting viciously. The gun went off, firing harmlessly into the air and Q screamed out as his wrist was wrenched. They both stumbled and then Q’s heel struck a rock and they fell. The gun went flying and James used all his body weight to pin Q, pushing his wrists to the ground with one hand. He bucked, surprising James with his strength as he tried to break free.

“Q! _Q!_ ” James panted. “Stop! I don’t want to kill you. I want to help you.”

“Please let me go!” Q sobbed. “You can’t help me. You can’t…” James loosened his hold slightly as Q sagged, all the fight leaving him. He turned his head as he tried one last time to buck James off. “Please… You’re going to get me killed.”

James reached over to where Q had dropped the dry bag. There was a large rivet on one corner though which the length of rope that had lashed it to the bottom of boat was still tied. He pulled it free and used it to tie Q’s wrists together. Once they were secure, he got up and then grabbed Q’s elbow to drag him to his feet.

He bent to pick up the gun, tucking it into the back of his waistband and then tried to pull Q up the path but he resisted.

“Come on.”

“Why should I?” Q asked, panting. “You’re going to kill me anyway. That’s why they sent a double-oh, isn’t it? You’re all murderers.”

“You seem to think you know a lot about double-ohs…”

Q flinched and tried to pull away again. James held onto him implacably and continued;

“… but you seem to be missing a fundamental fact about us. We are licensed to kill, not instructed to. My bosses would think it a pretty poor show if I killed everyone that they suspected.”

He turned Q’s hands so he could see the tattoo. He touched his fingertips to it.

“I know what this is.”

Q tried to pull away yet again. James admired his persistence but stopped him easily.

“James…”

“You’ve been owned. Are you still owned?” He searched Q’s face. “You are.” He added quietly. “I think you’re a puppet and I think that you’re scared. I don’t think you have any kind of freedom but I can help you. Give yourself up to me. To MI6. We can help you.”

“You can’t help me. He’ll find me. You don’t know what he’s like.”

“Then why don’t you tell me? Come on. Show me your real camp.”

Q hesitated and James saw him mull over what he’d just said. He pushed Q to make him walk up the path ahead of him and watched him closely to make sure he didn’t do anything foolish. He didn’t. His shoulders had dropped and James felt a pang of regret at how defeated he looked. He plodded on, one step at a time, until they rose above sea level. There wasn’t much of a view, the sky was still dark and grey with snow clouds, but it was bracing and beautiful. Eventually, halfway up the cliff, they came to another campsite. There was an empty space where James had guessed the tent had been originally and a tarpaulin had been stretched out to form a bivouac that protected a small stove from the worst of the weather. There were two or three cargo boxes positioned around like furniture. Q hesitated, looking suddenly nervous. James had a hunch as to why and he strode over to one of the boxes to open it. It was completely empty.

“I said your real camp.” He growled.

Q took a step back.

“He’ll kill me.”

“I told already, he won’t. I can protect you. Q, I don’t want to have to force you.” James said. The young man looked pained, as if he was torn as to what to do. “Do you trust me?” James asked. Q shook his head. With a sigh James walked over to him and untied his hands. “Well, you should. Please don’t make me regret this.”

“You’re letting me go?” Q asked, incredulous.

“ _I’m_ trusting _you_.”

Q seemed surprised. He raised his left hand to his face and pressed the back of his fingers to his mouth. James waiting patiently as Q resolved whatever internal conflict he was having. He half expected him to suddenly try to run or maybe try to grab the gun but instead he sat down on one of the crates and pointed to the one next to him. James sat down as Q leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared at the floor. 

“I want to tell you something. Explain why I’m here. Or try to at least.” He paused, as if thinking over what he wanted to say. Or maybe just how. After a moment, he started to talk. 

“I was born in Hong Kong. My father was a diplomat, his name was Jonathan Chamuel. I was a kid so I didn’t know anything about what he was involved in but when I was ten my parents were both killed in _car accident_.” He said the last two words sarcastically.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” James said automatically.

“Don’t be. It was a long time ago.” Q replied, sounding almost irritated. “The next thing I knew I was in Macao. I’d been taken there by the man responsible. I thought at first it was because he didn’t want anyone to know that it hadn’t been an accident. That my parents had been murdered. Maybe he’d wanted me out of the way and didn’t kill kids.”

“How did you know he was responsible?” James asked.

“Because I was there with them in the car when he shot them. I think I was supposed to die too but my would-be assassin thought he would make himself some extra cash by selling me instead.” He laughed bitterly. “They gave him five hundred US dollars.”

“One of the sex houses?”

“One of the biggest. I was there for three years. They carried on my education, groomed me to be a good, obedient boy. I lived in opulence but I was regularly beaten. Forced into situations that I didn’t want to be in. With people… men… that I hated.” He paused for a moment as if collecting his thoughts. “It was part of their plan. They allowed those men to abuse me but they had a strict rule. I was not to lose my virginity. That was to be auctioned off when I turned thirteen.”

“They wanted you to attract the attentions of as many men as possible so they would bid against each other.” James said.

“Yes. And it worked. The bidding was fierce. I was bought by the man who still owns me. His name is Raoul Silva. He’s the man who controls me.” He paused again, still staring at the floor. “That was twenty years ago…” He said quietly, more to himself than to James. “He flattered me. Encouraged me in my studies. Told me I was a genius. He was good at computers but I was running rings around him by the time I was eighteen. He started setting me little tasks. A hack here, a new piece of covert logging software there. I got more and more involved in the dark web until I was interrupting national power grids, causing train networks to fail. I was stealing information, tracking people who were on the run. All the time he complimented me, called me his clever boy. His little… his angel. ” Q laughed and it sounded like a sob. “He fucked me sometimes but not often and always on his terms. He told me it was because he loved me so much but that didn’t stop him from letting his business associates ‘borrow’ me sometimes, to use my skills or fuck me, he didn’t usually care… and neither did I. I’d do anything for him. I was infatuated with him. I wasn’t allowed friends, any kind of freedom, but I hardly noticed. My whole life revolved around him. He flattered me. Made me feel special. He’s a genius and his finest creation was the gilded cage that he kept me in… I didn’t even notice it was there.”

“But something changed.”

“I grew restless. Tired of it all. I realised that the things that he had me do were hurting people. Killing them, sometimes. I tried to escape. He found me within days. I’m clever but he’s so much cleverer. I became a liability. That was when he started to leave me in places like this. He’d drop me off with enough food and water and leave me to it. He sends me instructions and expects me to follow them to the letter. If I don’t, he hurts me. Last time he almost killed me…”

“The cameras. They’re watching _you_.” James said quietly. “That’s why you were desperate for me to leave. He’s seen me here, hasn’t he?”

“I really hoped at first that you were just an ornithologist, but I had my suspicions.” Q said sadly.

“Oh?”

“Last night when you were telling me about the birds that you said you studied. You spent a lot of time on Wikipedia when you were topping up your cover story, didn’t you?” James laughed at that. “I let it slide. You were nice. I… I was attracted to you and it clouded my judgement. I thought that maybe you were just full of bullshit. Exaggerating your credentials to make yourself look good, but then I swept the beach this morning and I found your dry bag had washed up… I saw the gun. Tell me, what tipped you off? What brought you here?”

“The transmission that you sent out last week. The one to the smugglers. It was intercepted.”

Q nodded.

“Of course. I knew it was a gamble but that crew is important to us. I was told to protect them at all costs.” 

“So, you didn’t do it to attract the attention of the CIA? You must have known they were working in this area, to be able to warn the smugglers? How many times have you taken ‘gambles’ since you decided to leave him Q? Drawn attention to yourself in subtle ways, hoping that someone like me might come along and take you away?”

Q looked at James, studying him. He looked as though he was about to speak but then stood up instead.

“Let me show you something.”

He waited for James to stand and then led him out of the back of the little camp and up the next flight of steps. They quickly got much steeper but Q moved like a mountain goat, sure-footed and fast. James struggled to keep up, his injured thigh screaming by the time they had reached the top the old monastery. 

There was a series of ruined buildings. Most of the walls had collapsed but the paved floor was intact. At the far end, a number of domed structures still stood. Q walked over to the furthest one. Reaching up on tiptoes, he slid his hand into a small recess.

“Watch your feet.” 

James was amazed as a section of the stone flooring slid away, revealing modern metal steps leading down into a well-lit passageway.

“Come and see my real camp.”

Q led the way and James suddenly felt like Alice, following the White Rabbit down into Wonderland. The tunnel had a low ceiling but after a dozen steps it suddenly opened out into a wide corridor. As James reached the bottom of them, the distant sound of waves suddenly cut off and James realised that the hatch had closed.

“It’s small but livable.” Q said. “There’s a bathroom, a kitchen, a utility room and a bedroom but I spend most of my time in here.”

“How the hell did you manage all this?” James asked looking around himself, bewildered. “How did nobody notice?”

“Technically, Silva owns the island.” Q replied. “I believe it took several years to build it without arousing anyone's suspicion. It’s amazing what you can do when you have enough money…”

They stepped into the room at the end of the corridor and James was greeted with a giant wall of screens. There were thirty at least. A couple of them showed shots of the island but they mostly showed CCTV footage. Busy streets, offices, turbines, what looked like museums.

“Where does the information come from?” James asked in wonder.

“The communications array is in the island’s lighthouse. Everything comes in through that.” Q said.

“How long have you been here?”

“This time around? Almost three months but he’s left me in some places for longer. The heart of jungles, deserts, on oil rigs miles out to sea…”

“Jesus Q.” He didn’t know what to think. This man. Groomed almost his whole life. Forced into isolation. Kept on the tightest of leashes.

“I’ve brought you here because while you were down at the tent there was a chance that he might have let you go. Even after you’d been to the dummy camp.” Q said quietly. “But the cameras would have seen you come up here. He will have seen you come in here. That’s unforgivable. He won’t let that slide…”

“So, now I really need to get out of here and you want me to take you with me.” James said realising he’d been played.

“Yes.” Q said flatly. “I don’t care if I go to jail. I don’t care if I have to give up every single one of his secrets, I just need to be free of him.” Q dropped his head. “I don’t even care if you kill me. I’d understand. I’ve put you in terrible danger by bringing you up here.”

“And what if I refuse? What if I leave without you?”

Q tapped on the keyboard nearest to him and called up a map to the biggest screen in the middle of the array. There was a red light blinking in the middle of the Celtic Sea. 

“That’s one of his ships. It’s five hours away. I’m assuming that’s the one that will bring men here, they were due to pick me up this week. That's why I was trying to get rid of you. I can’t tell though. There might be another, much smaller boat coming that I won’t be able to pick up on the radar until it’s a couple of miles out. He might send a chopper. If he does, I might only get a few minutes notice. If you try to leave without me, there’s no chance he’ll let you go, now he knows what you’ve seen. He’s going to hunt you down. Eliminate you. Your only chance of survival is the information that I can give you that will help you to hunt him down.”

“What about you? What would happen to you if I left you here?” James asked.

“I’ve defied him so many times now. I’m sure that he’ll finally be tired of me.”

“So, you want MI6’s protection. What exactly do we get in return?”

“I can lead you to him. I know enough about his operations. I have files, dates, information about all of the things he’s made me do. The future projects he’s had me set up. I have copies of everything in a place he knows nothing about. I can give you everything. You can stop his operations. After all, he’s the one you want. He’s the real power behind the Archangel name.”

“You must have been special to him. For him to use his pet name for you as his front.”

“What do you mean?”

“He didn’t call you his little angel, did he? You were his little archangel." James said. "Your father’s surname. Your surname. What was it? Chamuel? Archangel Chamuel was the divine benefactor of unconditional love if I remember my theological studies correctly.”

“Your theological studies?”

“I very nearly entered the priesthood as a boy. As luck would have it, I ended up in the Navy instead.”

“So that part of what you told me last night at least was the truth.” Q asked

“That, and when I said that you were a beautiful boy.” James said affectionately but then he grew serious again. “You call yourself the Archangel but I don’t believe you’ve ever been that truly. It was all him. It was only ever him.”

Q looked as if he was going to speak until a small alarm sounded.

“Damnit!” He swore and turned to the keyboard, suddenly, frantically typing in commands. 

“What’s going on?” James asked.

“Proximity alert. There’s a small boat nearing the island. Goddamnit! I should have known that he’d send someone quickly once he saw you come up here. They must have been stationed on the mainland awaiting instruction. I didn’t think it would be quite that fucking quick.” He dragged his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Speedboat, two miles out, and there’s a larger boat two miles behind that, shit! That’s heading for the cove too. How fast can you move with that leg of yours James? If we’re quick enough we might make it to your boat in time.”

“They’ll be working against the tide, we’ll be with it. It’ll be tight but don’t worry about me. Do you need to gather anything together to take with you?”

“I want nothing that man has ever given me.” Q spat. “Let’s go.”

They hurried up the corridor and out of the hatch. James glanced back to see it slide shut behind them and then they were all but running down the steep cliff steps. Several times he thought Q would fall, only to catch his balance at the last moment and carry on as if nothing had happened. They passed the dummy camp and hurtled down the second set of steps. As they neared the tent, James took out his Walther and called out to Q.

“Hold up! Get behind me. They might be here already.”

As if answering James, there was the sudden crack of gunshot, a rush of air beside his cheek and then the unmistakable whine of a bullet ricocheting off the rock behind him. He shouted for Q to drop and saw him immediately fall to the floor. James dropped next to him and cautiously raised his head. There was another ricochet as a bullet hit a boulder a little too close to James’s head for his liking. He ducked back down and paused a moment. He’d seen where two of the men were. Taking a moment to crawl a metre along the path, he slowed his breathing and raised up again.

One.

Two.

He coolly squeezed the trigger twice, watching dispassionately as the two men fell. He saw movement to the side of them and took a third man out before dropping back down. He beckoned to Q who crawled after him.

“Think.” He said in a low voice. “Is there another obvious route up past us from the beach? Anywhere these men might use to circle around us?”

“No.” Q said, just as quietly. “There are steep rocks to the left of us, and an open bank to the right but it’s covered in scree. They’d be fools to risk their footing on there and we’d hear them in any case.”

James nodded.

“OK then. I’m going to try to push us down to the beach. Keep your eyes peeled and keep behind me. We need to get off this rock before the crew of that second boat get here. Stay low.” Q nodded, his eyes bright with fear and with something else; was that hope? James pressed a quick kiss to the side of his mouth. “I’m going to get you out of here, I promise.”

Q nodded again and smiled nervously. James risked raising his head again and, seeing that the coast was clear, started to move forward. They’d managed another couple of metres before the path to the beach opened out. James cautiously stood up and raised his gun. He couldn’t see anyone else but that didn’t mean…

Two more shots rang out as, lightning fast, Q shoved out James of the way, sending him to the ground. James searched about them. He couldn’t see where their assailant was. There was another shot and James realised it was coming from behind a boulder on the edge of the beach. He dived to the side of the path as yet another shot rang out. He returned fire, more to keep the man at bay than with any hope of hitting them. He paused, waited for half a heartbeat and then fully stood up to return the shot. His gun cracked and the man fell, lifeless from out behind the rock. Barking at Q to stay where he was, James stepped onto the shingle beach. There was one more man by the small boat that they’d dragged up onto the beach and by James’s reckoning he had one more bullet. Deciding to embrace the element of surprise he strode towards him and raised his gun one final time. The man ducked as James fired and the head shot went wild. Cursing, James started to run, ignoring the burn in his thigh. When he was close enough, before the man had time to recover, James threw the gun as hard as he could, striking him squarely in the forehead. With a roar, James rugby-tackled him, sending them both flying into the surf. 

The water was freezing and James gasped, even as he started to punch the man in the face. Already concussed from the gun to the face, within seconds James had gained the upper hand, pushing his head under the water and holding him there until he stopped twitching.

James stood up and shivered. He was freezing and wet through again but he paid it no mind. He quickly examined the boat that the men had arrived on. It was bigger than James’s and had a much larger engine. He decided it would be better to take it. He paused for a moment to scan the horizon. There was no sign of the second boat but they didn’t have a moment to spare so he ran back up the beach to get Q.

As he neared the path, he saw Q standing next to one of the men that James had shot. He’d picked up his gun and was turning it over in his hand. He glanced up at James and looked as if he was about to say something before he suddenly raised the gun, pointing it at James. 

“DROP!” Q shouted, sounding panicked. James instinctively fell to the ground as two guns fired simultaneously. He twisted and saw the man from the beach, the man he’d thought he’d killed, slumped over a rock, a bullet hole in his forehead. He laughed, buzzing with the adrenaline rush that came from almost getting his balls shot off, but the laughter died when he turned back to see Q. He was lying prone on his back, frozen. James ran over and dropped to his knees beside him. His heart sank as he spied the bullet hole in the front of Q’s coat. He tried to stir as James unzipped it and reached inside to tenderly press the heel of his hand onto the wound at the base of his ribs. He slipped his other hand under his back and lifted him onto his lap so he could cradle him.

“James…” Q’s breath rattled and flecks of blood appeared on his lips as he struggled to move.

“Shhh. I’ve got you, Q. It’s going to be OK.”

“Fucking liar.” Q croaked. “Did I get him?”

“You got him.” James replied, pressing his hand in harder as blood began to seep through his fingers. He was wracking his brain. He needed to stop the bleeding long enough to get Q into the boat but he couldn’t think how. The small first aid kit in the tent was hardly big enough to be of any use. James could use his shirt to tie around Q but he wasn’t sure Q would live long enough for James to take it off if he took the pressure off his wound, even for a second. He tried not to think about M, _his_ M not Mallory, as she’d bled out in his arms. He’d never felt so helpless as he did on the day she died and now he was experiencing it again. Q was dying. This beautiful, abused, genius who’d he’d only just met. Who he’d promised to save. Who he’d promised a future to. He shook his head. It was all so unfair.

“Thank you…” Q spoke quietly, his head lolling in the crook of James’s arm. It was as if he’d read James’s mind. “Thank you for trying… to help me escape…” 

“They probably would have put you in prison.” James admitted.

“Don’t care… would have been free… of him…”

James started to shiver but he ignored it, so intent was he on the man in his arms.

“We can still make it.” He said hoarsely. “Just rest a moment.”

“James… don’t… please… It’s OK…” Q’s breath started to become strained. “Pl…” He trembled.

James pressed harder on his wound, hating the way it made Q gasp. His bicep was starting to tremble with the effort.

“Please Q. Please just hold on…”

There was a flash of movement on the beach, and for a moment James startled. The other boat. He’d forgotten all about it. He tensed, poised to grab the gun that lay next to Q’s limp hand, and then he realised that he recognised the man jogging towards him.

“James, my man! You’ve been on this rock two days! You don’t ring, you don’t write, there’s corpses everywhere… what’s up with that?” He called out.

“Please tell me you’ve got a fucking medic with you!” James shouted back.

Felix’s immediately dropped his jovial manner and ran towards them, pulling a radio out and talking into it rapidly. He stuffed it back into his pocket and knelt down beside them. He pulled back Q’s jacket and immediately placed his hand over James’s, helping to increase the pressure. 

“Who’s this?”

James looked down at Q. He was unconscious now.

“It’s the Archangel… or the ‘face’ of the Archangel in any case. Do you think we can save him? We have to save him.”

Felix looked grim.

“We can try, brother. We can try.”

~00Q~

James stood in the intensive care unit of MI6’s medical department, staring at the prone figure in the bed in front of him.

Q was still alive, barely. The local coastguards that had accompanied Felix to the island were well-used to dealing with emergencies but Q’s wound had been a challenge. They’d worked on him where he’d lain, calling to the mainland to request immediate evacuation by helicopter. James could only watch as they resuscitated twice before they loaded him onto the stretcher and took him away. Mi6 sent a team to meet up with the crew at the hospital in Cork and by the time James wrapped up his business on the island and followed him there, Q had already been taken on to London.

Felix agreed to stay behind on the island to wrap things up. There was no way Q’s employer would be making an appearance now but the hideout under the monastery needed to be examined and the boat that had been coming to pick up Q needed to be tracked. What followed were probably some of the most frustrating hours of his life. A sudden snow storm had grounded the flights out of Cork and it was several hours before James could start the hour and a half journey to Stanstead Airport. Once there, the car that picked him up was caught in traffic and it took his driver over two hours to get him to Vauxhall. He’d tried to go straight to medical once he’d arrived but M must have set an alert on his key-card entry log as he intercepted James by the main entrance, demanding he be debriefed and made fully aware of the potential threat of the man James had ‘captured’. By the time James had finally walked into Q’s room, it had been a full twenty-four hours since he’d last seen him. They’d operated on Q while James was still travelling. Removing the slug and repairing the damage it had caused. They’d pumped a gallon of blood into him, working for hours to stabilise him. He was sedated now, a respirator helping him to breath. He looked so vulnerable and James felt a prickle of irritation at the fact his wrists were cuffed. They’d used soft leather restraints which were attached to the sides of his bed rather than hard metal but it still rankled James that they would deem it necessary to restrain him after he'd been so badly hurt saving James’s life. 

“I like your new boyfriend.” A voice said next to him.

He turned to see Eve standing there.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“I was curious. I wanted to see the great Archangel.” Eve walked up to the side of the bed and tilted her head, studying Q. “He’s very pretty.”

“He’s a genius who was abused by the man who owned him, the man who was the real power behind the Archangel name.”

“Do you think he’ll come over to us?” She asked. She reached out to brush run her thumb over his cheek and James was torn between barking at her not to touch him and fighting to hold himself together as her gentle touch threatened to break James’s heart.

“Yes. He already has.” James stated flatly. Eve turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You have got it bad.” She said with a wry smile.

James felt a smile of his own tug at his lips as he walked over to the other side of the bed. He took Q’s hand. It was slim and delicate and warm.

“Maybe it’s wishful thinking,” he admitted, “but you didn’t see him on the island. The way…” He trailed off remembering the way Q had reached back to grip James’s hip as they’d made love, craving his touch. The story of his life that he’d told James, while they were sitting high up on Skellig Michael. The way he didn’t hesitate to stand tall, exposing himself to give himself the chance to stop the man who had been intent on killing James. After a moment or two he looked up to see Eve was watching him with a soft expression on her face.

“Maybe it is wishful thinking,” she agreed, “but then, maybe it isn’t.”

There was a small sound from the bed between them. Q was stirring. Eve quickly pressed the call button to summon the medical staff and then stepped back as James leaned over to place his hand on Q’s forehead as he tried to move.

“Easy there. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

Doctor Conroy rushed into the room with one of the nurses. James tucked himself up by the head of the bed as they started to go about preparing to remove the breathing tube from Q’s throat. Q’s eyelids flickered and then finally opened. He looked straight up at him, his eyes wide open in fear. He seemed to relax as he realised who James was.

“I’ve got you, Q. It’s going to be OK.” James said, just as he had on the island, stroking a stray curl back off his face and squeezing his hand gently.

Q blinked slowly and squeezed James’s hand back. He nodded as if to say that, this time, he believed him.

_~fin~_


End file.
